Sons of Anarchy: Unlawful Liaison
by lBridgetl
Summary: All it took was an eventful night in Lodi when a young woman was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time and with the wrong people to turn her life into a frantic experience of life on the other side: The side where violence was law, loyalty was a must and love was anything but sweet and smooth. Everything takes a backseat in your life once you're in with the club.
1. Proface

_I can appreciate all the well written Juice fics, but none of them really seem to acknowledge how deep and sad a character he really was._

_I wanted to explore that with an original character who Juice trusted enough to open up to._

* * *

The night was pleasant against the skin bared on my arms and legs, warm with a light breeze caress.

It wasn't too late, 7pm, 8 at most. I was used to walking home at night around this time, it was never a problem, never before.

My body groaned in protest as I was thrown to the ground and a startled scream ripped from my throat involuntarily. I went tumbling in a tangled whirlwind of legs and leather. My body instinctually curled in on itself in an attempt to protect vital areas, although it was in vain.

The other body, the person who took me down, had snaked an arm around my waist and somehow managed to twist us in the air, their other hand found the back of my head, bracing me against them. We landed, them hitting the ground with a fleshy thud, the audible sound of air being forced from their lungs and with me slamming on their chest, my face pressed into the shoulder of this stranger. There was the unmistakable scratch of coarse hair on my face and the scent of musk, salt and leather. I drew back quickly, anger flaring in my stomach, I opened my mouth ready to let a string of rage fly.

Only to have a hand cover my mouth and nose, not only cutting off all sounds, but also my breathing.

"Shh, shh," The man hushed me, raising his head to observe something. As he lifted himself, he was revealed from my shadow by the streetlights, revealing a man with tan skin, yellow washed by the old lights, shaved hair with a neat, short Mohawk railed by tribal tattoos, big, brown eyes that reminded me of deer in cartoon books I'd read as a child, his nose was large, but not unpleasantly so.

I was reminded of my inability to breathe as I became aware of my heart beating almost painfully loud. I clutched at the man's hand, clawing, tugging, trying, in vain, to draw breath. He seemed to notice my distress and shifted his focus back to me.

"Oh, fuck. I'm so sorry." He offered quickly in a whisper before releasing his grip on my face so quickly you'd have thought he had been burnt. "There's some bad guys nearby, they'll shoot you on sight." He explained, still in that whisper.

My heart began its panicked thud, only this time due to the figures rounding the corner as his words were processed in my mind. I was not one to naively trust a stranger, but I was taking a backseat in my own body as my instincts kicked in. They were wary of this mohawked stranger, but they screamed at me to run from those figures.

There were several tens of metres away and apparently they hadn't seen us due to a raised garden bed we had the good fortune to land behind. It was just high enough for me to peek over while remaining unseen, but the strangers were approaching and they'd upon us very soon.

"They're right there." I whispered back, fear lilting my voice into a higher pitch.

I rolled carefully to the left, off the man and closer to the fence lining the garden bed. If I could reach it, I could use it to shelter me from view and run along the alley to the next block and run from there.

I crawled as close to the ground as I could manage, the rough pavement scraping skin from my bare legs and forearms. I reached the fence and whirled in a crouch to see the man crawling similarly to me, though only his arms were being skinned on the sandpaper concrete, his legs protected by his dark jeans, although I listened to the seemingly loud sound of his jeans scratching on the pavement.

I could hear them. They were too close. We needed to move. I couldn't believe I was essentially putting my life in this stranger's calloused hands.

Instinctually, I reached out and grabbed his forearm and hefted his body with all my might, aided by the fact that I could practically stand without being seen. I dragged him into the cover of the fence and gave a final tug to pull him to his feet. He moved past me, twisting his arm to grab my forearm so we were locked into a monkey grip, he began a stealthy jog along the fence, dragging me behind him.

Together, Mohawk and I reached the end of the alley and rounded the corner only to continue to run. Across the road, down another darkened alley, all the while, he dragged me along, his longer legs giving him the advantage as we fled. We were eight blocks away before his pace began to slow, he breathed heavily, hard. I could smell cigarettes on his breath, I was impressed a smoker could keep that pace for that long.

He turned to me, "Juice," He breathed out before dropping my hand and bending, leaning his hands on his thighs in an attempt to rest and catch his breath at the same time. I was also breathing heavily, though not to the extent he was. "What?" I asked in confusion to his single worded conversation.

"Juice, it's my name." He explained, waving one hand before returning it to its place on his leg.

A nickname, it clicked in my mind. If I wasn't trusted with his real name, he wasn't trusted with mine. "I'm…" I paused, racking my brain for something, anything that would keep me anonymous from this man. "Um, Shepard." I blushed furiously at my poor attempt of thinking up a believable name, but in my mind, I was already prepared to place the blame of the blush on my terrible name. I panicked at not being able to think up a decent name and opted to use my surname. A very stupid mistake.

Juice's eyebrows had already risen in doubt, and I shrugged lightly before dropping my head in faux embarrassment. "My parents weren't very good at the whole naming business, I'm aware of how stupid my name is." I mumbled. He laughed out breathlessly.

"I like it, it's different. I just thought you were lying." He explained, pushing off his thighs to stand up straight. I wasn't exactly short, I stood at 5'9 and this man still had a couple of inches on me.

"So," I crossed my arms, my right rubbing just below my shoulder. "Who were those guys? Why did you help me? Why were they after you?" I asked, assaulting him with questions.

"Well, I'm part of the Sons of Anarchy MC from Charming, that little town not far from here, they're a rival club, that's why they were after me." He said, rubbing his hand over his very short Mohawk. I caught sight of tattoos on his forearm and strained my eyes to see them, but was unsuccessful. I loved tattoos, I was currently completing my apprenticeship at The Rusty Needle, the local tattoo parlour. I had no tattoos myself, but I intended on rectifying that.

"And why did you grab me?" I asked, my hand stilling on my arm. "You could have ditched and been in safety by now."

He shrugged, his head turning to the left as he looked down the deserted street.

"It didn't feel right to do that." He said, his doe eyes returning to mine. "Look, you probably should get out of Lodi. I don't know if they saw us, or you walking. If they recognise you, you're dead." My stomach dropped at that and fear flooded my body.

"And go where? I've never been anywhere else!" I shrieked at him, shoving his chest, surprising myself as much as him. "I have an apprenticeship here, and family, friends, everything I have is right here!" The warmth alerted me to the scared tears rushing down my face.

Juice opened his mouth but was interrupted by the sounds of squealing tires and roaring engines. Our heads jolted to the right to see a black van flanked by two bikes heading our way.

Juice's hand found my arm, griping it almost painfully tight as he high tailed it down the alley we stood in front of. After a few metres, he turned to the left and kicked in a wooden door, splintering the door frame and throwing it open. We ran through what I now realised to be a shop, Juice dropped my hand, hoisted up a chair and threw it through the shop front window, a deep grunt leaving his throat with the force of the throw.

Glass flew in outwards and scattered on the pavement in front of the window, he grabbed my hand and leapt through the now glassless window, forcing me to jump to avoid being impaled on various pieces still jabbing upwards like spikes. He ran across the road to yet another alley, but instead of high tailing in down this escape route like he previously had been doing, he slowed and ducked behind some dump bins.

And there in the dark, all midnight black and shining chrome, was a motorbike. A Harley Dyna. He sat astride the bike, kicking the kickstand up and looked up at me, offering something to me in the darkness. I took it and my hands recognised it as a helmet. I met his eyes again just as he began to speak.

"Look, we haven't got long before they find us again. We have to get out of here, my club can offer you protection until you figure out the next move." He said, his hands finding the bars and settling into comfort. I looked down at the helmet again. As wary as I was of this man, he had a point. Maybe those men didn't see me the first time, but they sure as hell saw me with him at the mouth of that alley.

In a split second, I made my decision. I placed the helmet on my head and straddled the bike behind this man, sliding forward until I was pressed against his back as my hands busied themselves fastening the helmet to my head. After I was satisfied it was secure, I wrapped my arms around him. Only then did he start the bike, the roar was deafening and I realised why he didn't awaken the beast until he was ready to flee.

And, just like that, I was running. From those men. From my town. From my family. From my life.

I was terrified and upset and filled with dread.

We found ourselves at a truck stop, he to refuel, me to find food. I was sitting in a booth, staring out the window at cars flying down the highway, head in hand, body slumped.

My head whipped around at the sound of someone sliding into the booth across from me, but it was just Juice.

He was watching me, chewing on the inside of his cheek.

"If you've got something to say, just say it." I said. I didn't recognise my own voice. It was thick, like I'd spent hours crying followed by hours of silence.

He huffed out an exhale of breath through his nose before leaning forwards over the table.

"Look, I know this isn't fun for you. I know you're risking a lot, including your life," He said, before taking a salt shaker in hand and twirling it between deft fingers, "I'm going to try my best to help you, I feel like I dragged you into this mess so I'm going to get you out of it, okay?" He promised, ducking his head down and looking up into my eyes, "I know it's a lot to ask, but I'm going to ask you to trust me." The shaker stopped its strange dance and was placed back in its original position.

"When we get back to the MC, I'll tell them that you're an old friend I ran into so they don't think you're some sweetbutt along for the ride." He said, falling back into the booth chair.

My forehead cinched, "A what butt?" I asked in confusion.

"A sweetbutt," He said, a small smile falling across his face, "Y'know. Ten second girl kind of thing." He shrugged as it dawned on me.

"Ohhhh…"

He grinned at my reaction as the waitress placed two cups of black coffee in front of us.

"I didn't know how you liked your coffee." I murmured and he smiled as he lifted the mug to his lips.

"This is perfect, darlin'"

* * *

_Author's Note:_

_I'm just trying to get back into the groove of writing so I can do this and do some more work on my Mass Effect fanfiction._

_I'd love to know what you thought because I didn't have a clear idea of what I was going for, direction would be great. _

_lBridgetl_

**DISCLAIMER TO COVER ENTIRE STORY:  
I DO NOT OWN ANY RIGHTS TO THE TELEVISION SERIES **_**THE SONS OF ANARCHY.**_

**THE SHOW BELONGS TO KURT SUTTER AND APPROPRIATE COMPANY.**

**NO COPYRIGHT INFRINGEMENT INTENDED.**


	2. Charming

_A massive thank you to ILoveThee, IdrilLessien and pahwinchester for their input on the previous chapter._

_Just an update: This isn't a set story, I'm feeling it out and finding a path to follow, so any ideas you want to throw in there will be greatly appreciated._

_[Sorry, this is just a filler]_

_I'm also going to write a tag at the bottom of each chapter to say which songs influenced the writing of this chapter. :)_

* * *

Juice ordered himself the 'big breakfast' which turned out to be several slices of toast, sausages, bacon and eggs. I ordered a bacon and egg roll and another cup of coffee. I watched in fascination as he began devouring the food like he hadn't eaten in days, yet, he somehow managed to avoid making a mess.

He seemed to realise I was watching him. He wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand, "What?" He asked, in a light, amused tone. I raised an eyebrow at him. "You just completely devoured all of that in the time it's taken me to eat half of this." I said, waggling the half eaten roll in my hand, "And you didn't drop a single piece."

He grinned, leaning back in the booth chair so he was sprawled across it. "What can I say?" He tucked his hands behind his head, "It's a gift."

I smiled in spite of myself. In the last couple of hours, my life had taken a tumble. Actually, tumble was a bit of an understatement. But there was Juice. Right now, he was the only stable thing for me to grasp to until I found some kind of normality.

"Alright, gifted Juice, what's the next move?" I asked, leaning forwards and letting my arms cross loosely on the table.

"Well, we're an hour or so from Charming." He stated, straightening, his face falling into something resembling seriousness. "I'll drop you around at my apartment, you can stay there for now 'cause I usually stay at the club house anyway." He said, rubbing at the back of his neck. "When I've dropped you off, I'll go talk to Clay about the situation, I might bend a few details." He shrugged, "Piece of cake."

And just like that, we were back on that shiny bike of Juice's flying down the highway.

He had bought another helmet at a small backward motorbike store for me, smaller, more suited to me, and taken his own back.

Last night, being on the back of the bike had made me nervous, even scared me. But as the night went on, I became more comfortable and began to trust in the bike's capabilities and Juice's abilities. Today, I was relishing the feeling of delicious freedom.

He was pretty spot on with the timing. It took us an hour and a half to reach Charming. Charming itself was small. Much smaller than Lodi. It was quant with its little shop fronts and smaller government facilities, like the hospital and the police building. Juice rode through town, giving me a quick tour, in doing so, he alerted some of his club buddies to our presence.

My heart began beating frantically in my chest when I realised they were now following us. My grip on Juice tightened enough for him to notice my distress and he glanced over his shoulder to see his 'brothers'. To my horror, he pulled over to the side of the road and killed the engine. My leg seemed to swing itself over the bike of its own accord, I hastily unclipped the helmet, dropping it on a handlebar. I nearly went ass up over the gutter and only then did I realise I was backing away from the approaching men.

Juice seemed to notice my uncertainty and moved to stand by me, an arm moving behind me to brace me and hooking in a belt loop of the opposite side of my jeans. "It's okay, Shepard." He murmured, "They're good, they're my brothers."

Without thinking, I corrected Juice. "It's Sarah. Shepard is my last name." My eyes widened in fear of what I'd done as I threw Juice a quick glance to see a smile tugging at his lips.

The men pulled in and killed their engines before advancing on us.

"Juicy Boy," One greeted, a Scottish accent lilting his words. He had graying hair and a beard to match, but really caught my eye was the scars carved up his cheeks nearly from lip to ear. He wore a patch titling him as 'Soldier'.

The other had unruly black hair and a facial hair combination, he wore a patch titling him 'Sergeant At Arms'.

Juice nodded at them with a grin, but behind me, he had his thumb on the back of my hip rubbing circles. It shocked me at first, then I noticed his intentions as trying to soothe my worries.

"Chibs," He directed as the Scotsman, "Tig, this is Shepard. She's an old friend." He said as the men directed their attention to me.

"Shepard is an odd name, lass." Chibs commented lightly while Tig seemed to be scrutinising me.

My stomach had filled itself with ice at the attention, "It's a nickname." I said, surprising myself with how level my voice was.

"So, here's the thing." Juice said, drawing the attention back to himself. "Shep was living in Lodi, and I may or may not have gotten her into a spot of trouble with the Mayans. She's going to stay in Charming for a while, I just have to fill Clay in."

"A spot of trouble?" Tig asked, obviously doubtful.

"Mayans wanted Juice dead. They saw me with him when they were chasing him across town." I said with a shrug. "He's always been a magnet for trouble." I added at the last minute. It would hopefully add an element of history that they would believe.

"Well, Juicy Boy, what's the deal?" Chibs asked, a verbal grin in his voice, "High school sweethearts or something?" Tig snorted.

"Nah, we're just friends, man." Juice said, his brow furrowing.

"Really?" Tig asked, crossing his arms comically and leaning forwards, "Then why have you had your hand on her ass this whole time?"

* * *

_**Author's Note:**_

_**I still have no direction to this story, but I just feel like writing.**_

_**Ideas and thoughts are welcome.**_

_**lBridgetl**_

_**Song List:**_

_**Work Song – Hozier**_

_**John the Revelator – Curtis Stigers Feat. The Forest Rangers**_

_**Been to Hell – Hollywood Undead**_

_**Problem – Penatonix**_

_**The City - Ed Sheeran**_


End file.
